Suffer the little children...

Today, when we walked into Mass, it was as quiet as a tomb.

How prescient. 

Two parents with five children trooped into church today. Before the Gospel, two parents with five children trooped back out.

Why?

Because I will not stay where my children are not welcome. 

But let me back up and give you the full story.

A few months ago, our parish (because of a lack of priests) cut out one Sunday Mass and shifted the remaining Mass times. Our "normal" Mass time was pushed half an hour earlier. Because Hubby works nights (and by necessity sleeps late), it was tough for us to make the new, earlier Mass time. So we started going to Mass at a different parish that had a later Mass time. The new parish has no attached school (read: fewer children), but does have a young priest who gives excellent homilies. I loved going to Mass at the new parish because my sons got to see a young man, vibrant in faith, who has answered God's call to the priesthood. As an added bonus, the building was constructed in the mid-1800's, and is absolutely breathtaking. (Our parish church was built less than 10 years ago. Eyesore. Sad, but true.) There is beautiful, beautiful music - great cantor, knock-your-socks-off choir, pipe organ. Smells and bells all the way. Hubby & I had considered officially changing parishes.

I don't see that happening now.

Today, we arrived for Mass our usual 15 minutes early. We came in, crossed ourselves, genuflected, and entered the pew. I didn't have to bug anyone to scoot down, everyone filed in like we've done this 1000 times before - which we have. We sat in our usual spot: a few rows from the front, on the right. Hubby & I knelt to pray. Adam, Luke, and Joey did the same. Gracie thumbed through the missal. Sam babbled.

The nerve of that baby. He made normal baby noises.

By the looks I got from the older women sitting near us, it was apparent that this joyful noise unto the Lord was most unwelcome. This sound of LIFE, to members of a religion that goes out of its way to profess its unwavering conviction about the sanctity of life from conception to natural death, was very, very unwelcome.

Let me make myself clear - he was babbling. Not screaming. Not crying. Not hitting anyone, throwing anything, having a tantrum, making a scene. He. Was. Babbling.

So the woman sitting two rows in front of us was apparently so distressed at his presumption that she felt it her duty to turn and give my son The Eye. She turned herself, head and shoulders, all the way around in her pew, to make sure that my little heathen child - who's sole purpose was to wreck havoc upon the the Holy Mother Church and bring about all of our ruin and damnation - she had to make sure my evil child (and, by association, my heathen husband, who was holding said Spawn of Evil) knew that he was disrupting her serene and quiet contemplation of her own silent perfection, moral spotlessness, and unparalleled charity.

Sensing the snit that was brewing, I motioned for Hubby to pass the baby to me, thinking that it was pretty close to nap time and some good walking at the back of the sanctuary could send Rosemary's Baby into dreamland and therefore avoid snittery.

I rose with Sam, exited the pew, genuflected (no mean feat with 27 pounds of evil in your arms) and started walking back down the aisle that I had just come up not three minutes earlier. I passed a pair of grey-haired ladies on my way, one of whom whispered to me, "Thank you."

Um, I'm sorry, but WHAT?!

ARE YOU SERIOUS?

And this is where I rant, because I couldn't do it there. 

We are (supposed to be) a Church that embraces - no, celebrates and rejoices in - LIFE. Guess what? These are the sounds of that life! Here I am, a married mother of five children, a cradle Catholic who loves her faith, the Holy Father, the Sacraments, the Church - and you made me feel ashamed, if only for the smallest fraction of a moment, of my child.

Do you have any idea of the Herculean effort it takes to get a family of seven to Mass on time? Everyone must be breakfasted, hair brushed, teeth brushed, shoes found and on the right feet, clothes clean and pressed and on, baby nursed, everyone bathroomed, out the door ("No! Do NOT brush against the dusty car in your clean clothes!") and in the pew before the entrance hymn. My husband gets home from work at 3 am. He gets up at 8 am on Sundays so that we can be out the door on time. I am a full-time nursing student. We homeschool. We are busy people. The Church - the Mass - is at the center of ALL of that. I bank on that grace to get me through another week!

Let's assume for a minute that I'm not well-grounded in my faith. That I'm not a card carrying member of the open-to-life club. That I don't know my cherubim from my seraphim. Let's say that I was a mom who had to beg and cajole her husband to bring the kids and come to Mass. What did you and your judgement just do? You denied my family a place at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. You made sure that we wouldn't darken the doorstep of another Catholic Church for a good, long time. You are culpable in the eternal damnation of seven people. Good job! Glad you got that quiet time before Mass started.

Children are not the future of the Church. Let's be crystal clear on this point - my baptized-and-well-catechized children have just as much right to be at Mass as anyone else. My children are the Church, just as any baptized person is.

They are the children of the Almighty. And He loves them.

Mt 18:6 But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.


Mt 18:10 Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven.


How can we expect children to be raised in the faith if we do not welcome them into it? Here we could take a lesson from our Protestant bretheren: they know families. They know how to treat little people. Ah, the irony is rich here! I know that as Catholics we want our children with us at worship - and I agree that children should be in Mass and not at CCD or "Sunday School" during Mass time. Their place is at Mass. They need to be present at the Consecration, to see the miracle of Christ made real, Christ present for every one of us. They need those graces. So do I. But after a few minutes with my fifth blessing in the back of the sanctuary - where neither of us could see a darn thing and I couldn't let him down, as he would have drooled all over the pretty display for the Young Adult Ministry (yes, Lord, I see the irony, too!) I left. I fled the church. Me. I got the stroller out of the minivan and I walked two blocks to the mall.

So if I felt unwelcome - (me! Cradle Catholic. Homeschool nutjob who has her kids memorize the Baltimore Catechism. Married in the Church. Former Pre-Cana sponsor. Me.) - how would a lonely, searching, unmarried mom of one little baby feel, surrounded by so much judgement? One hairy eyeball and one smarmy comment were enough to ruin my whole morning, and make certain that I'll never cross the threshold of that sanctuary again. What if I had no other options? What if I couldn't drive to another Mass? What if the only experience I had of the Church was that one from this morning?

No wonder vocations are at a critical level.

Am I angry? You bet your chapel veil I am! Don't mess with my children. Don't mess with my Church.

What they don't get

Please forgive my lack of pictures for this post. I'm writing on the PC laptop, and my Mac has the photo library.

This evening, I had a fun phone call with my mother-in-law. Our conversations are usually peppered with funny jokes and sarcastic comments, stories about the kids and embarrassing things that have happened to us during the week. We share news and stories, laughs and acerbic observations. During the conversation, she shared the comments that several people made to her when she told them that we were expecting, you know, again. I have a pretty thick skin when it comes to peoples' opinions about my life. More often than not, I roll my eyes and mentally sigh about what people fail to grasp about my motives and thought processes. Homeschooling, extending breastfeeding, cosleeping, keeping my boys intact, living a thrifty life, and not using artificial birth control. Those things are puzzling to so many people. When they find out any of those things, I often get, "Oh! I could never do that!" Okay, fine. You're missing out, but do what you want.

But the comments that always leave me scratching my head are the ones about having children. They just don't make sense to me. I really, really don't get what people are getting at.

"They're doing that AGAIN?"

"They're having ANOTHER one?"

"This is FIVE kids? How do they afford that?"

"I just couldn't do it. I don't have the patience."

"Oh, I was so glad to stop breastfeeding... stop carrying a diaper bag... go on a real vacation... send my kids to school... couldn't wait for them to move out..."

Really? I don't get it. How do any of those things - any of those things - compare with having another person in your family? How? Yes, pregnancy is hard. I don't like being pregnant. I don't like the physical limitations it puts on me. I'm vain, embarrassingly so, about my weight. I hate being uncomfortable. But it's what? 10 months long? (Yes, 4 weeks per month makes a 40 week pregnancy = 10 months. Don't get me started on THAT.) Ten short months, compared to a lifetime of having another person in your family. I. Don't. Get. It.

Yes, kids can be expensive. But really and truly, kids don't require much. Parents who indulge every whim do their children a disservice - wanting is a good thing. (I'm not talking about necessities here. Food, clothes, shelter, a stable environment, love - those are needs.) Wanting teaches our kids patience (and who couldn't use more of that?) That's a good thing. My kids have wants, plenty of them. Their needs are met and then some, and many of their wants, too. But who could compare spoiling your child with things to having a brother or sister? How many adults say, "Gosh, I wish my parents wouldn't have had my sister Sally. Then I would have been able to have a Barbie Dream House at Christmas." Huh?

And let's not forget the adult wants: vacations, sending our other kids to college (yes, that's a want), having adult cars and adult houses (you know - Southern Living Catalog, no sign that anyone lives there!), sleeping in, whole days off - all that stuff. But you know what?

It's not about ME, but about US. It's not about this laundry list of things that might be nice to have. It's about love. Pure and simple. How can I look at any one of my children and think, "Gosh, if I didn't have him, we would have been able to take everyone on vacation to Disney last Christmas." Because isn't that the thought process we're following here? That if we have more money and more time to ourselves, we will somehow fill up this well inside ourselves, and be perpetually happy?

As if happiness can be bought with money.

As if money could compare with love.

These children are my investment. They are my happiness. I can't imagine my life without any one of them. When Hubby & I were discerning if it was time to expand our family again (oh, there's a Catholic rabbit trail about being open to life...) the thought that brought us both up short was, "Think about the children we have. Wouldn't you do anything, anything, to have that person in your life?" How can I say no to that? How can I close that door, and actually mean that I would rather have a bigger house/smaller car/more presents at Christmas/nicer vacation/smaller purse instead of a child? How do we come to that place? Tell me, because it's a place I never want to see!

Looking at my children when they sleep, little rosebud lips and flushed cheeks; watching them play together and look out for one another; seeing silly faces at the breakfast table; listening to whispered conversations between brothers after lights out; smelling the sweet smell of a new baby; being squished by bodies on the couch when we read books; how can I give up any of that for a king's ransom in new clothes, pretty shoes and purses, European vacations, afternoons sipping lattes and reading novels?

We cannot fulfill ourselves with things, spending time and money on ourselves, pursuing our own selfish whims constantly. It is only through loving others that we find happiness. I am selfish in this: I want to fill my cup to the brim. I want as much love as I can squeeze into this family. If the cost is mountains of laundry and diapers and sippy cups and Legos, years of potty training and diaper bags, the stretching of my patience and the doubting of my sanity - bring it on! What a small pittance to pay for such a life of love.

My children love the expectation of a new baby. They understand that this is a gift. There is never an impatient, "Again, Mom?" It's always a very wide-eyed, "Really? Cool!" I am so very, very lucky, so incredibly blessed. Thank You, God, for giving me a husband who understands this wonderful mess of children. Thank You, God, for making me able to have children. Thank You so much for sticky faces and dirty socks and gum in my dryer and dishes to wash. Thank You for letting me be a mother, again!

Two unrelated thoughts

Adam has decided that he doesn't want to be an altar server any more. My poor Catholic mama heart is breaking. Doesn't he look just perfect in his cassock and surplice? After he fainted at the altar on Christmas Day (yes, really), he's been afraid to serve. So I got one last picture to remember his serving days. He's not completely off the hook, though. I told him that he still has to serve for family weddings, funerals, and homeschool Masses.

I'm going to miss seeing him in his vestments. (Are they vestments, when he's just an altar server?)

Now, for the unrelated bit. I don't know why this didn't occur to me earlier! Hubby & I like our morning (decaf) coffee, as I've said before. However, we often have leftover coffee. Being a coffee snob (who is so grateful to have an almost sister-in-law who works for Starbucks), I don't like it reheated. When in North Carolina this past weekend, I watched my friends reheat their coffee from the previous day's brewing and shuddered at the thought! I've debated pouring leftover java on the plants, but I don't want to harm them with too much nitrogen. I use the grounds in our compost, after having reused them at least once. But what to do with the leftover joe?

Put it in ice cube trays, and save it for iced coffee!

Why didn't I think of that sooner?! I freeze all kinds of things in ice cube trays - chicken broth, tomato paste (I can never use a full can, and hate to throw any away), homemade baby food; why not coffee?

A Green Easter

Now don't go and think that everything that we did for the kids' Easter baskets was eco-friendly, but we did do a couple of things that were friendly to the Earth and our budget.

First, we reused the baskets from last year. I just stack them on a shelf in the basement after every Easter, and they wait to be used annually. It always amazes me how many people are too bothered to just put something on a shelf! (Here's the math: 4 kids, 18 years each, conservatively estimating $2.99 per basket = $215.28. Yep, I can find the shelf space.) 

Secondly, instead of Easter grass, we used shredded paper to fill the baskets. I shred the pre-approved credit card offers I get in the mail anyway, so why not put them to good use? (A side benefit to this is that I'm not vacuuming up that darn Easter grass for six months. I hate Easter grass!) The kids think it's cool to shred the paper and leave the baskets out for the Easter Bunny to fill. 

Third, I shop at Goodwill for some of the kids "filler" items. I can pick up paperback books at a steal. My kids love to read! 

Lastly, and this isn't as eco-friendly as wallet-friendly, I put a few useful things in their baskets. Pencils, crayons, hair bands for Grace (I should branch out to cool toothbrushes next year!), items that aren't junk. (Really, how much play does a child get out of a wind-up plastic Easter bunny that hops? And how long does that item spend in a landfill after that 3 minutes of play?)

Yes, they still get candy. Yes, they get dyed eggs. I use Russell-Stover chocolate crosses instead of chocolate bunnies - I like to keep Jesus front & center. We reuse our plastic "filler" eggs every year. Hubby insists upon jelly beans every year. In other words, there is no horrid suffering and depravation taking place because we've chosen to be crunchy and thrifty. 

You know you're the mom of boys...

When you give your son a picture of the pope to color, and he adds a light sabre and axe. 

Novena to St. Joseph

I found this novena over at Catholic Fire. If you'd like to join me, I'll be starting tomorrow. 

Prayer to St. Joseph for Workers

Joseph, by the work of your hands and the sweat of your brow, you supported Jesus and Mary, and had the Son of God as your fellow worker. Teach me to work as you did, with patience and perseverance, for God and for those whom God has given me to support. Teach me to see in my fellow workers the Christ who desires to be in them, that I may always be charitable and forbearing towards all. Grant me to look upon work with the eyes of faith, so that I shall recognize in it my share in God's own creative activity and in Christ's work of our redemption, and so take pride in it. When it is pleasant and productive, remind me to give thanks to God for it. And when it is burdensome, teach me to offer it to God, in reparation for my sins and the sins of the world. 

O good father Joseph! I beg you, by all your sufferings, sorrows, and joys, to obtain for me what I ask: for profitable, steady work for Loni's husband, so that he can support his family and provide for their needs. 

Obtain for all those who have asked for my prayers, everything that is useful to them in the plan of God. Be near to me in my last moments, that I may eternally sing the praises of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Amen. 

(Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be) 

I need to sit on my hands...

Okay, this is really my last post about the election. But I had to share these little bits from here and there with you. 

In a recent article from Faith & Family Live, an author shares her wonder and worry about the outcome of the presidential election. She marvels at the barrier we've just crossed as a nation, and how wonderful and moving it is that we've elected the first African-American man as president. She goes on to say: 

It's bittersweet in the extreme, however, that the man who embodies the triumph of our founding principle "all men are created equal" with respect to black persons should be so unwilling to extend to the unborn the same right to be included in the family of men. It shows he doesn't know the meaning of his own triumph, and it's a blot on his achievement much as the institution of slavery was a blot on the American founding. 

The author goes on to share (and here's the second bit, that really shocked me) about a constitutional amendment passed in Michigan that makes it permissible to create embryos specifically for the purpose of experimenting on them. Does that make anyone else just want to be physically ill? (You can read the article in its entirety here.) Creating people, just so we can experiment on them?! It's like a bad nightmare, something from a science fiction movie. It's so evil, so frightening. "Oh, but those are just groups of cells. They're not people." Well, you and I are just a few dollars' worth of chemicals. 

The blogger of Conversion Diary (one of my very favorite blogs) talks about this very thing: how the victims of every kind of genocide were first categorized as less than human. Jews in the Holocaust, infant girls in ancient Rome, slaves in early America. How society uses euphemisms to talk about people that are being stripped of their humanity, calling them anything but man, woman, child. How that act makes the horror easier for society to swallow, like the frog boiling in the cooking pot. 

There are so many things I could say on this topic. But I am so fatigued by the evil of it. So heartsick that people have eyes but don't SEE. I am grieved that misguided sympathy makes this a "woman's rights issue," as if killing people should be the right of anyone. 

Don't even get me started about FOCA. Catholic hospitals will have to start performing abortions, even though that is anathema to their very existence. Parental notification (for parents of minors seeking abortion) will be ended. The ban on partial birth abortion will be lifted. This law can't even be described as Pro Choice - it can only be described as Pro Abortion. This is the first thing Obama wants to sign when he takes office! I'm heartsick about the thought of it. 

I need to sign off now, and go hug my children, and pray that they can make a better world of this mess they'll inherit. 

My heart is heavy

My heart is heavy because of the election results. I am grieved that so many people just blithely don't think. Here, read this - she says it best. 

Autumn is so pretty!

We're very fortunate to live in a little Catholic triangle: we live between a monastery, a church with attached school, and a Catholic hospital. So many chapels within easy walking distance! So many bells, ringing out the hours of every day! (Yes, I know I should be praying the Angelus! I know! I know!) 

We regularly stroll over to the monastery, and enjoy the park-like grounds. The monastery's campus also houses a conference center and convalescent home for lay people and retired religious. (Let me tell you - the Sisters really know how to complement a mom. They just LOVE babies!) As with so many Catholic campuses, it is beautiful with its trees and flowers and sweeping lawns. In autumn, it is especially beautiful. Here are some pictures we took on a recent nature walk on the grounds. Enjoy!